He rose and bent to place his lips by Daniel’s ear.

‘You’ll speak of this to no one.’

It was not a request.

Daniel remained standing, watching Gabriel haul another sheep to the water. He did not know why his advice had been truthful. Because he was certain of Sarah’s loathing for Gabriel, perhaps, or relief that they remained undiscovered. Or because he simply could do no other.

The magistrate’s shoes tapped as he walked across the yard to the house. The cleanest the farm had ever seen, and Daniel did not know how he avoided the dust and dung that covered the ground. He was silent as he entered the kitchen, lifting his eyes to search the corners for cobwebs, running his finger along the wall, where Bett scowled.

‘Won’t you take a seat?’ Father asked. ‘There’s plenty food left if you’re hungry.’

‘I shall not, thank you.’

‘Then how can we help you, Magistrate Wright? Are you in need of another meeting?’

‘It may well come to that,’ he said. ‘For there is disturbing news from the village and I am concerned regarding a family there, the Shaws? You know of them?’

Father rose. ‘He’s a fisherman, is he not? He seems an honest—’

The magistrate lifted a hand, silencing him. ‘I do not need the man’s history, I am wondering if you see them at church, that is all.’

Daniel opened his mouth, about to defend the Shaws, but as he thought, he could not recall having seen them in church. His instinct to protect was silenced by his fear of speaking untruths where God was concerned.

‘I have heard tell they were not present even for the Easter service? They held their own – celebration?’ The magistrate’s gaze bore down.

Gabriel began to shake his head, but Father threw him a warning glance. ‘I’m sure they were – I couldn’t rightly say,’ Father said. ‘Perhaps the parson …?’

‘Parson Walsh has been less forthcoming than I had hoped. There is also another matter you may know of. Concerning the netter.’ He strode around the room, turning the pans that hung on the wall, peering into the trough. Bett folded her arms and glared at him.

‘S-Sam Finch?’ The brute who had lost a tooth to Sarah’s brother’s fist. Unease flickered.

‘Indeed. A sad spate of ill events have befallen him – his entirety of food souring while he was about prayer at church last Sunday, the sufferings of he and his wife with sickness and inflaming of the skin – that cannot be laid down to poor luck. There is an evil hand at work, I fear, and I know that Master Gabriel here spoke of a bad grace towards him by a certain family in the past?’

He spoke of fear and yet it was something else that Daniel saw in him: appetite.